


Campus Cryptid

by Bjurnberg



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley's just vibing on a college campus, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Minor Swearing, OC POV, gambling mention, he attends classes and has several degrees, no one knows why he's still there, none on screen, says he likes knowledge for knowledge's sake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29807178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bjurnberg/pseuds/Bjurnberg
Summary: No one on campus really knows what Crowley is, but they've all heard the rumors. Some say he's in the mob, others say he's a fairy, some think he's just a dick. But everyone he's helped is grateful. And everyone who's crossed him doesn't return.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 45





	1. Carissa

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place a few years before the antichrist shows up.

It wasn’t the worst day Carissa had ever had. No, the worst days were locked away behind mental bars and the key carefully kept in a drawer at her therapists office. But today certainly wasn’t a good one.

Honestly, this whole week could use a break, but there’s no way she could afford the 30 hour nap she desperately desired, or the day off work to clean her apartment that had accumulated all sorts of grime in the last month of depressive lows, or an extra day to finish this essay spread across the table in front of her, or -

“Look ready to set that thing on fire. Bold move with class starting in five minutes.”

Carissa snapped her head up to see flaming red hair over designer sunglasses. It was the Campus Cryptid. She knew he was in this class but hadn’t expected to see him leaning a hip against the table she’d been working on. What was his name again? Oh no, she didn’t want to be rude but she’d entirely forgotten.

“Uh, sorry, just long week is all,” she answered instead. A standard response that every college student could emphasize with.

“What’s got’cha down?”

“Oh where to begin?” She groaned into her hands and rubbed at her face. Most people would take this to mean: I don’t have time but thank you for your concern please drop the subject and return to your scheduled programming.

“Start with last week.”

“Huh?” Her face was a mix of surprise, annoyance, and exhaustion.

“Go on then,” he slid down to lounge across the opposite bench, elbows on the table and one hand propping up his chin. He looked rather serious, like her life was important to him.

“Oh, um, well it’s been a shit week, truly, but we have class and should go find our seats before we’re late...” she gathered her notes and essay into one messy pile, shoving them into her bag along with the knowledge of looming failure.

Meanwhile he was pulling out his mobile, dialing a memorized number... and happened to be close enough she could overhear the voice on the other end.

“Hey Crowley what’s up?” It was their Professor.

“Gonna miss class today, Leslie.”

A laughing rumble echoed through the speaker. “Even though I can see you outside my classroom window sitting in the courtyard with Miss De la Vega?”

Crowley’s mouth stretched into a wicked grin. He gave a finger wiggle in the direction of said window. “We’re both taking a mental health day. Gonna go get coffee.”

At this point Carissa had sat straight, shaking her head and scowling at The Cryptid. She turned toward the same window to wave an X at their professor to indicate this man was telling lies and she’d be to class in one minute, but Crowley grabbed her hand and started to drag her off in the direction of the campus cafe.

“This poor child needs an extension on her paper too. I’ll trade you one of those pies you like in exchange.”

Leslie laughed harder, “I’ll take it. I want both on my desk next week. Treat her nicely now, she’s had a rough time of it lately.”

“That’s why I’m kidnapping her. Ciao!” He hung up and turned back to his prisoner, who was stumbling along trying to match his long stride.

“Can you slow down and let go of me please?!”

He halved his pace, and dropped her hand, “Come on, then, we got permission to skip out and you’ve got another week to flesh out that essay. Let’s get a drink and put some order back in your life.”

Carissa stopped and folded her arms with a frown. “Why are you doing this?”

He paused and turned toward her, “What, not grateful?”

“Look,” she said, suddenly nervous, “Yes, I’m grateful for the extension. Thank you. That’s a chunk of stress off my back. But I also can’t stand taking gifts without knowing the underlying expectations of the giver, so... why are you doing this? What do you expect in return?”

Crowley gave her a long look; it was hard to guess what kind behind those glasses.

“I owe someone a favor,” he finally replied in a low voice.

“And what’s that got to do with me?”

A deep sigh as he ran a hand through his hair (somehow miraculously not messing up the styling) and then, “He’s doing me a solid by taking a trip to Edinburgh in my place. Job had to do with horses again. I hate horses. And why are the Scotland jobs always with the horses? I’ll never know they don’t tell me these things, but in return I owe him a favor and just before he left he said I had to help three people - and it had to be in person too, no long distance help - so I saw you there, near about to rip that paper to shreds and thought, gee, there’s the first person to tick off my list. Happy?”

Carissa shifted from one foot to the other, and uncrossed her arms to clutch the strap of her bag. “So... I’m just a project? No ulterior motive or unspoken expectations looming in my future?”

“Nope,” he popped the P and held up both hands in surrender. “Just a good old fashioned favor, already paid for by somebody else. It’s your lucky day.”

Oh, she could sure use some luck. Carissa had heard so many rumors about this man people called the Campus Cryptid. The mildest saying he liked stupid pranks and skipped class more than was allowed, but still somehow passed all his classes. The scariest saying he could ruin a person’s entire career with one phone call. Lots of people thought he was in the mob. But there were plenty of good rumors too, about how he would help people in the library with their history homework, and walk women across campus at night to help them feel safe, and buy lunch for students when their food cards ran out.

Maybe he was an agent of chaos, but that didn’t always equal bad, now did it? An amoral creature could do just as much positive as negative. And here he was, offering to put her life in order. If he really was as powerful as people claimed she’d be a fool to deny this.

And besides all that... he was the only person to do something nice for her in a long while.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll let you put my life in order. I’ll trust you on this.”

A grin started to spread over his sharp teeth.

“Or, rather,” she looked him right in the sunglasses and gave her own tired smile, “I’ll trust the debt you owe your friend.”

A bark of laughter bounced off the courtyard walls. “A safer bet, that! Now then,” he held out his hand, and this time she willingly held it. He gave a wicked grin and swung it in an exaggerated arch as they started toward the café, “Start with last week.”


	2. Petunia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter with mention of rape. Nothing shown or discussed.
> 
> The Shakespeare being quoted is from Much Ado About Nothing, Act 4 Scene 1

“Watch out, The Cryptid is upset today.” Jodie slid her lunch tray onto the table across from Susie.

“His name is Crowley, don’t use rude nicknames,” Petunia whispered, discretely looking around the cafeteria. She sat between the two, each woman taking a side of their small square table.

“No, he says to call him Crowley. It’s not the same,” Susie whispers back.

“Come off it,” Jodie doesn’t bother whispering. “He’s not one of your fairies. He doesn’t have a secret Name that’ll control him.”

Susie looked offended. “Names are important! And they don’t like that word, use The Fair Folk, or Fae. You could draw unwanted attention!”

Jodie flashed an smug grin, muttering, “Who says it’s unwanted?” and stood, waving an arm high toward the man who just exited the food line holding only a large drink. “Hey Crowley!! Come join us!”

Susie and Petunia both looked mortified, and failed to act casual as their faces flushed beet red. He was actually walking over to them! Other people in the hall watched overtly or sideways, trying to creep in on a possible spectacle.

He stopped before Jodie, scowl on his face and an eyebrow raised.

“Why?” was all he said.

She was rarely intimidated, and smiled back. “You looked upset, thought you could use some company today and we’ve got an extra spot. Petunia made a bag of biscuits this morning, wanna share them with us?”

“That’s not it.”

“What?” Jodie kept the smile glued on her face.

“What you said is all true, but that’s not why you called me over.” He took a long sip of his coffee. There was a second cup over the filled one, acting as insulation against the heat. This didn’t seem to stop him from drinking the near boiling liquid.

“You don’t like biscuits? They’re cinnamon pecan shortbread.”

“One more chance.”

Her shoulders sagged a little, and the smile sunk. “Okay, fine, I just wanted to embarrass my friends a little for fun. You don’t have to join us if you don’t want to, but I won’t rescind my invitation. No one deserves to be alone.”

It was hard to tell what new expression hid behind the sunglasses, but something in his face relaxed.

“Okay,” he nodded, and slid onto the chair next to where Jodie stood. Everyone who had been watching suddenly wasn’t; now going about their own business or distracted. She sat too, straddling her own chair backwards, facing him.

“Great! This is Susie and Petunia, I’m Jodie. The three of us met in acting class couple years back. I got dropped cuz I’m trash at acting, but they’re solid friends despite my deficiencies.”

“You’re not deficient!” Petunia chimed in, then folded her arms under the extra attention. “It’s just not your area of expertise is all,” she mumbled. “You’re plenty good in other areas.”

“Petunia doesn’t stand for self-deprecation,” Jodie smirked, grabbing the bag of biscuits from the book bag between them and dumping it’s contents on her food tray, shoving it into the center of their table within easy reach of everyone before stuffing two in her mouth.

“What do you stand for, Pet?” Crowley asked.

“Don’t call me that!” she hissed, and her two friends sucked in breaths and leaned away at the sudden venom. A small part of Petunia warned her that she was yelling at a man known for his unpredictable moods, already in a sour one, and could possibly be in deep shit in two seconds. The much larger part of her didn’t care, and refused to stand down. “I am no one’s pet! Women deserve better than to be thought of as lesser. I’m a strong woman who will remain top of my class, graduate with honors, and perform at The Globe. I will not be owned or looked down on, and why are you grinning like a loon?!”

Crowley indeed had a smile stretching from one ear to the other. He looked a bit feral, and Susie placed a hand on Petunia’s shoulder to ease her back down into her seat, where she’d half-risen in her anger, throwing concerned glances around the tables near them, only to find that (miraculously) no one was paying any attention.

He took a loud slurp from his cup, making the moment worse before saying, “Usually it’s me yelling at flowers, I’ve never had one yell back before.”

“I’m not a flower.” Straight back, arms folded, and nose held high.

“No... you certainly aren’t, but you do live up to your name, don’t you? Petunias can symbolize resentment and anger. It’s been building in you for a while, too. I can tell.” He leaned close - halfway across the table, propping his chin in palm, dark glasses reflecting the fluorescents overhead. “So tell me, who do you resent so much that a stranger can set off your anger this easily?”

The group's silence broke as Petunia let out a ragged breath and tears started streaming down her face.

Susie gave her a side hug and glared at Crowley. “That’s none of your business, you should go.”

“This is exactly my business,” he said, still staring intently at Petunia.

“Don’t be cruel,” Jodie stepped in. “She’s got almost as many rumors in the mill as you have, so leave her be, and be on your-“

“Ah ah,” He wagged a finger at Jodie without looking. “You said you wouldn’t rescind my invitation. Now,” his voice got quiet, softer. “Petunia, do you seek revenge? Catharsis? Do you wish to forget?”

“I will never forget what he did to me,” she whispered back, choking on her words, and curling in on herself until elbows met the table. “And I don’t want to forget because I built myself stronger after. Forgetting destroys progress and repeats mistakes.”

He nodded encouragement to continue.

“And - and revenge. That. No, I,” she squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists until the blood couldn’t flow. Susie and Jodie each reached for a hand from opposite sides, and held tight, but stayed silent.

“I couldn’t do that -”

“Tell the truth,” Crowley interrupted.

Her eyes jumped to his, and she near growled, “I do want revenge. I would like so much to - I would love to destroy him. Deserves it, after what he did to me, calling me his pet the whole time he -”

She ground her teeth to a halt. Closing her eyes again, she took three very slow, deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

“I can’t even report him without losing my place in the program, I’d get expelled just cuz he’s connected, protected!” She continued in hushed tones. “And then he spread the rumors about me. People say I’m a lair, a cheat, a prude and a slut. I’ve had so many of his friends harass me. I’ve had strangers,” she glared at him again, “harass me, and question my motives in everything from school work to just trying to walk to my dorm alone at night. I can’t even flirt anymore without the past being thrown in my face! So do I want revenge?” A small, hollow laugh was the opposite of amusing. “I would eat his heart in the marketplace.”

“Sweet Hero, she is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone.” He responded in kind. This gave Petunia pause, and she sat back to reassessed him.

“Oh, that I were a man for his sake,” she quoted, “Or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake.”

“Enough, I am engaged. I will challenge him.” Had Susie thought he looked feral before? This face was much closer to a cat who’d just caught a mouse, and been rewarded with a bowl of cream.

He sat up straight, or, at least not hunched forward, and a spell seemed to be broken among their little table. All three women relaxed. Petunia gave her two friends’ hands a squeeze before letting them go to grab a napkin and mop up her tear tracks.

“Do you mean it?” she asked, a little hesitant now.

Crowley gave an honest smile, just barely tugging at the corner of his mouth. He pulled the insulating cup off his coffee and shoved a handful of the pecan shortbread into it, using the lid from the drink to seal it, and tucking that into the now empty coffee cup.

“As public an affair as Claudio made at the wedding party. Your good name restored, and strength be to your chosen future,” he stood and spun on the ball of his foot.

“Wait!” Jodie held out a hand. “We haven’t told you who... oh. Of course you already know.”

Crowley's smile grew a little.

“Did you plan this?”

“You’re the one who called me over,” he turned back around and held both hands up. “Wanted to have a little fun. Didn’t think it’d turn out this good, did you? But!” He clapped his hands together around the cup, “Despite being more of a rumor mill than she is, I did recognize her name.”

“And those rumors,” Petunia said, “about you. How many are true, and how many are like mine? I’ve heard tell you can make people disappear. I’ve heard you can ensure a person’s career to be successful, or help someone fulfill their life-long dream. That you’re a fairy or in the mob or a monster with yellow eyes, or just a dick who thinks he can play games with people.”

“Oh...” Crowley sighed. “So many are true. And the rest? Too close for comfort.” He lowered his glasses just long enough to wink at them. Susie covered her mouth to muffle a squeak, and Jodie openly gasped.

Petunia stood and held out a hand for him to shake, “I don’t have the power to exact the revenge I want, but I believe you do, whatever you are.”

He took her hand solemnly, and as they held their grip tight she quoted the bard one last time, “By this hand. Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it.”

“By this hand,” he echoed as he let her go, and walked away.

The three friends sat down, and stared at each other for a second, uncertain about what would come next.

“So... do you owe him anything in return?” Susie asked.

Just as he reached the outside door Crowley raised the cup above his head and rattled its contents noisily. “Thanks for the biscuits!” he shouted, finally drawing the attention of everyone in the room, before the door slammed shut behind him.

“... told you he was Fae.”

“Is not!” Jodie argued back.

Susie raised a hand, ticking off fingers, “He made a deal, took something in exchange, is unrealistically pretty and thin, and he has cat eyes!”

“Those could be contacts, and maybe he really is in the mob.”

“Contacts he hides behind sunglasses all day every day?”

The bickering continued as Petunia took the last biscuit. She’d spent the last three years in fear, anger, and grief. It was going to end. Finally.

///

The next day the Headmaster’s son didn’t show up to any of his classes.

The day after that the Headmaster resigned due to the scandal that was splashed across every newspaper: his son in jail, pleading guilty to a number of crimes including selling drugs on campus and raping several classmates.

On the third day the news was nationwide, the investigators having discovered it was a much larger business, as they caught the Headmaster and two of the school councilors trying to leave the country discreetly.

///

“Have you seen this scandal, Crowley? It’s rather alarming news.” Aziraphale asked on the fourth day. The demon and angel were having a day in, sprawled across the couch and sitting in an overstuffed armchair, respectively, as they sipped tea.

“You know I don’t read, Angel.”

“Well then, I’ll read some to you,” he reached from behind his wall of newsprint for a piece of cinnamon pecan shortbread, and hummed as he took a bite. “Where did you pick these up? They’re absolutely delightful. We should visit this shop very soon so I can sample their variety.”

“Oh, they’re just from someone I met. Made a trade. But I’ll get her recipe. Now what’s this scandal about? I love a good scandal.”

“This one is right up your alley too, the story broke just a couple days ago -” the angel read snippets from different articles and interviews, and they both made commentary on the investigators, the trials, and how the number of suspects kept growing. Aziraphale was especially excited to see how many of the women were willing to stand and testify.

“It’s wonderfully brave of them, putting themselves through such scrutiny and pain. But their words will convict the guilty and hopefully give them some peace of mind. They seem to have made a rallying point around the first woman to say her piece. A...” he shuffled through the papers looking for a name. “A Petunia Ainsley.”

“Petunia,” Crowley mumbled. “That’s a flower.”

“Hmm, yes, and it seems she’s living up to her name,” Aziraphale added.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“You know in the Victorian days people gave all sorts of symbolism to different flowers and plants.”

“Hmm,” Crowley affirmed.

“Well, one of the meanings for petunias was a desire to spend time with someone because their company was soothing and peaceful. It seems she’s been helping these other women who want to speak up to find their voice.”

“Hmm,” he hummed again, quieter.

“Are you falling asleep already? It’s barely past midday!”

The demon’s voice came back muffled as he turned his face into a pillow, “I put in a lot of hours this week, I deserve it.”

“Oh, did you have an assignment?” the angel fretted, “you know with our Arrangement I could have helped you at least a bit so you wouldn’t be so exhausted. They sure do make you run around a lot.”

“It’sssfine, Angel, I got it done, jusssst fine.”

Aziraphale smiled at his sleepy demon, and stood long enough to drape a blanket across the lanky frame. “Sleep well, my dear,” his eyes flicked between the headlines and the already snoring body. “You deserve it.”


	3. Aidan

Aidan had done it again. This was the third time he’d fallen asleep in one of the library study rooms and woken up after hours. The building was supposed to shut down at 11pm. It was now 1am.

He’d gathered his research paper and books into his bag and walked as silently as he could toward the exit, praying there wasn’t some night alarm he was about to set off.

Then came a gut-rolling laugh that made him jump two feet in the air.

There was someone still here? Should he investigate?

Well, Aidan had always had trouble controlling his curiosity (his Grammy said he’d be lost down a mushroom ring some day) so he followed the sound, and caught snatches of conversation interspersed with booming laughter.

Peeking around the hallway’s corner into the main hall, he saw two men sitting at the help desk. Well, one was sitting in a chair at the desk properly, the other was sitting cross-legged on top of the desk waving his hands around telling jokes.

“Okay okay okay, wait. Wait! Try this one: A woman walks into a library and asks 'do you have Great Expectations?' The librarian answers 'I hope to be the manager by the end of the year.'”

The man in the chair leaned back so far he almost toppled over as he held his gut and wheezed.

It was Mr. Barkley, Aidan realized. The Head Librarian who was always such a stickler about having food in the study rooms. So many students snuck food in anyway, but it came with the risk of Mr. Barkley banning you for the semester. When he was on closing shift he would always stalk the halls, waking students and shooing couples from the stacks.

Now his face was flushed, and tears threatened the corners of his eyes. There were three bottles of wine on the desk between them, two already opened. Guess that explained why Aidan hadn’t been woken earlier.

The other man didn’t look like a librarian. With his shoulder-length red hair, black skinny jeans, and leather jacket, he looked like the lead singer in an underground band.

Wait, he was wearing sunglasses. Indoors? At night? Was this the Campus Cryptid his brother had warned him about?

Conor had graduated a couple years ago, and told all sorts of stories on this man. If he was a man. Conor was dead certain he was a leprechaun: making mischief all day, and granting wishes if caught out. The proof seemed solid enough, if you believed what Grammy taught them - he never seemed to age, trouble fell on the people who were rude to him, he had red hair, Conor was certain he was the one to glue that 50p coin outside the library (a connection to his pot of gold, perhaps?), and it was common knowledge he’d helped several people succeed in their chosen fields, ensuring a solid career.

Aidan wasn’t sure he believed those old world tales Grammy told them as children, but he liked the idea of the world holding more than humans could see. It’s part of why he was majoring in microbiology. He wanted to discover previously unseen worlds.

But right now the question he needed to solve was: could he reach the exit without being seen? He’d have to edge around the outside of the main hall, behind the bookshelves by the help desk, then sprint for the door while they were distracted.

“Hey you!”

Aidan’s heart squeezed.

“Yeah, I see you! Hiding in the hallway, you suck at hiding. Hair’s sticking round the corner, come on out here!”

The Leprechaun had caught him. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way round? Too late now. He stepped into the hall, clutching his bag straps in embarrassment and shuffling to the desk in shame.

“I’m so sorry, I fell asleep and -“

“Doesn’t matter.” He was interrupted. “Know any library jokes?”

“Uh.”

“Come now, lad,” Mr. Barkley smiled and his rosy cheeks shone. “Share a laugh. Crowley here is collecting jokes for his friend who owns an antique book shop down in Soho.”

Wow, he’d never seen Mr. Barkley so... genial before. Never seen him drunk either, of course. Oh no they were both staring. What awful joke could he convert from biology humor into library terms?

“Oh! You’ll like this one, Crowley!” The librarian threw in, “Got a book from the library about Stockholm Syndrome. Didn’t like it at first, but it grew on me.”

The man sitting on the desk threw back his head and guffawed.

“That one’s a keeper! Ooh! Ooh! How many librarians does it take to screw in a light bulb?”

“Oh I know this one!” Mr. Barkley looked giddy.

“645.5!!” They shouted in unison, and crashed their mugs together in salute before dissolving into further laughter.

“Here! Kid, wassyer name?”

“Um. Aidan O’Daniel.” He left out his middle name, just in case.

“Here Aidan O’Daniel, this’ll help loosen your tongue a bit,” a mug was shoved under his nose. The wine certainly smelled nice. Not the cheap stuff he was used to. But...

“I’m sorry, I should really get to bed, I've got an early class -”

“Nonsense! Drink! And don’t even think of walking off without telling at least three jokes!”

Aidan took the mug. More out of politeness than really wanting to. You weren’t supposed to eat or drink anything from the Fair Folk. But, that was just superstition right? And he recognized the label, it’s not like he was drinking some home brew...

It smelled so good.

And Mr. Barkley couldn’t very well get him in trouble when he was already sloshed himself, now could he?

Oh hell. He took a sip.

Then a slightly longer pull.

Wow that was good!

“There you go! Now, what’cha got?”

“Oh, okay, um how about, just discovered there’s a library in my village. They kept that quiet.”

Mr. Barkley’s boom of laughter echoed off the walls, and Crowley cackled, “Good! Good! Keep going!”

Aidan let out a chuckle too, “Okay, a man walks into a library and asks for a book on Finding Bigfoot. The librarian directs him to the large print section.”

This was fun. He hadn’t had time to piss around lately, and having a couple near-strangers laughing at his dumb jokes was satisfying. He drank some more.

The Head Librarian went next, “I went into the library asking for a book on how to let customers down lightly. The librarian said 'I’m terribly sorry sir, but I can’t help you with that.' I said 'yes! That’s the one!'”

All three howled and refilled their cups.

“I walked into the local library and asked if they have any books on floor panels. 'No,' the librarian replied 'we keep them on shelves here.'”

“A man walks into the library and asks for a book on the laws of probability. The librarian says 'it might be on the shelf over there.'”

Two hours had passed by the time Aidan wobbled home; he’d drunk most of the third bottle and felt wonderfully warm. He would wake up after his fifth alarm snooze just to find an email notification saying his 8am class was canceled due to the Professor having a flat tire and to complete the attached reading by next week. He could sleep in without worry.


	4. Josh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter with gambling mention.

“Please you’ve got to help me!”

“No I don’t.”

“There’s no one else I can ask!”

“Pity for you.”

A crowd was staring. Whispering behind hands, but not that quietly. It was rare to see someone loudly begging for help from the Campus Cryptid, after all.

Crowley was laying on the stone ledge of the rose garden when the first year had run up and fallen to his knees. Crying for help with money, something about racking up a debt.

It was obvious the poor boy thought Crowley was a loan shark with the mafia.

“I’ll do anything you want! Please! If I don’t pay them back tomorrow they could kill me!”

“At least that’ll shut you up.”

He hadn’t moved from his place on the stone wall. It couldn’t have been comfortable, but he’d been there for a while. It was a rare sunny day, and the stone had collected enough light to be warm.

“Any job! Any task! Just this once! I just need to make some money!”

Crowley sat up so quickly it reminded the crowd of a snake strike. He threw his hands in the air and shouted right back, “Will you just shut! Up!”

Even the crowd fell silent. No one moved.

“Give me a notebook and pen.”

The first year lurched, throwing his bag to the ground and quickly pulling the supplies out. Crowley snatched them from his hands and grumbled as he scribbled out a set of instructions.

“Do exactly as this says and you’ll get what you need upon completion. Don’t ever talk to me again and if you want to live past 20 quit gambling. You obviously suck at it.” He ripped half the paper off and folded it into a small square. “Read him this when you get there.”

The kid tucked the folded note into his pocket and quickly read through the instructions on the top half of the paper, “This... this is it?”

Crowley was already laying back on the warm stone wall, and flicked a dismissive hand in his direction. “Scram.”

The crowd parted as he ran through their midst, clutching his notebook and grinning like he’d just won the lottery, then they all dispersed, each back to their own classes or dorms while some among them speculated as to what chore the Campus Cryptid could have given the boy.

///

Most shop bells would sing a cheerful tune when you entered. This one sounded like rust and put you in the mindset of unpleasant tasks past due.

“We’re closed!” a voice snapped from behind several bookshelves, brooking no argument.

“I’m so sorry sir, but I have a delivery.” Josh had run all the way from the university, making one stop along the way, and if this was the only thing he had to do to pay off his debts he would succeed by god!

He’d heard all about the Campus Cryptid; how he had power to give you anything you wanted, that he’d helped dozens of people out of bad scrapes... for a trade. It made perfect sense he was mafia. Who else could wield those kind of resources around Soho?

This was an odd task for sure, but it probably meant more than what it appeared. Code for something, like in those old spy movies he grew up watching. He’d wanted to be James Bond so badly - playing cards and winning girls and flashing money everywhere.

Turned out his penchant for maths meant he was great at counting cards.

Turned out he had a shit poker face, and got caught too many times.

Never mind all that now, he’d won the (reluctant) favor of The Cryptid, now all he needed to do was please this shopkeeper and get paid! Everyone in Soho knew the shop was a mafia front for money laundering, seeing as how expensive the dusty old books were. It made sense Crowley would send him here.

A skeptical face frowned from behind a stack of novels, “I didn’t order anything.”

“It’s a gift, sir,” Josh added quickly to prevent being thrown out by this grumpy looking man walking toward him.

He raised an eyebrow and looked closer at the box. It had a label stamped on the side from a rather upscale patisserie.

Upon seeing this the man clasped his hands beside a cheek, and cooed at the sight. The change in demeanor was drastic - from retired mafia muscle gone to seed to favorite cherubic uncle that brings you presents every holiday.

The shopkeeper nearly ran over and snatched the box from Josh’s arms, placing it on his desk and flipping the lid open. The smell of assorted beignets, biscuits, and tartlets was enough to banish the smell of mildew seeping from the walls.

He’d just needed to give Crowley’s name at the patisserie for the owner to happily fill a box with the assortment, before handing it over free of charge. Josh was rather curious if The Cryptid had done some favor for the owner, or if it was part of the mafia’s protection fee to get free pastries.

Turning bright eyes on the delivery boy, the shopkeeper smiled and asked, “Was there a message to go with this gift?”

“Oh! Yeah, it’s,” he dug in his pocket for the piece of notebook paper which had been unevenly torn from its spiral. He unfolded it several times, before reading off:

“Doubt thou the stars are fire,  
Doubt the sun doth move,  
Doubt truth to be a liar,  
But... erm...”

He cut off the quote with a blush, almost choking as he read ahead.

“Never doubt I love,” Aziraphale finished in a whisper, blushing himself, looking shocked at the choice of quote. If Josh didn’t know better he’d think he was delivering a love letter between an old gay couple still in the closet.

“That’s... that’s not what it reads here.”

“... Oh? And what did dear Crowley do to blemish the Bard’s writing?”

Of course he knew it was from Crowley, probably had other runners bringing messages and parcels to and from this place all day to keep business running smoothly and avoid the coppers.

But would reading this out loud really endear him enough to get his money?

“Don’t be shy now, dear boy, read on.”

“Erm.. But never doubt your hedonistic desires for a good pastry would land you in more trouble than the fool reading this letter.”

Josh jumped as the shopkeeper let out a giggle. Was this a good sign?

“Oh my dear boy! Got yourself in a spot now have you?” he asked, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye and sitting behind the desk.

“Um, sir?”

“Call me Mr. Fell. And you’re... ?”

“Name’s Joshua Williams.”

“Well Mr. Williams, have a seat, choose a biscuit, and tell me all about this trouble you’re in.”

“I’m sorry to be forward Mr. Fell, but Crowley said I’d get paid when I competed my task, and, well, I really need the money soon as possible to pay off my debts.”

“Did Crowley say I’d give you money?” That skeptical eyebrow was back, and a cold sweat manifested on Josh’s back. Oh. Oh no.

“Tell me his exact words, please.”

“He, erm, he said 'you’ll get what you need.'”

“Ah.” A slow smug grin spread across Mr. Fell’s face, and a pit formed in Josh’s stomach.

What had he gotten himself into?

“Start from the beginning and tell me exactly what sort of mess you’re in.”

“So... so I’m not getting paid?” Was he being muscled into working for the mafia full time now? He should have seen this coming but he was desperate. That’s how they get you.

“Not in the way you expected, I’m sure, but Crowley and I have an Arrangement, and since he was thoughtful enough to send my favorite pastries, I’ll make sure you get what you need by the time we finish off this scrumptious assortment. Now,” he delicately pulled a beignet from the box, “choose a biscuit, and tell me what’s going on.”

Josh hung his head, feeling like he was back at confession for the first time in years, and started his tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale hands Josh a new identity. If the kid has people trying to kill him the answer is to get out of town.


	5. Michael

“I don’t think I did so bad,” Tanner shrugged, walking into the cafeteria with his mates.

“I bollocksed it right through,” Keira groaned. “Not a lick of it made sense. Why’d I even show up for that quiz?”

“Cuz you fancy the Teach.”

“Eww! No way in all nine hells!”

“Oh,” Michael laughed, navigating through the chairs to the food line, “so you know the nine hells but can’t answer one question on Descartes?”

“You’re going to the tenth hell where you watch Descartes shag the professor.”

Michael crossed himself, eyes toward heaven, and said “Oh God please keep me from this evil.”

The shriek of chair legs on linoleum interrupted the group’s laughter, and they turned to see a man with styled red hair and sunglasses bolt upright.

“Really. Right here in front of me? I’m just trying to have a moment of peace and here you are throwing crosses into the air! Like it’s no big deal! I just wanted a sit down and a drink and here you come walking by throwing crosses and blessings!” As he shouted he'd gathered his jacket off the chair and haphazardly thrown his arms into the sleeves. “Where’s the respect! Complete and utter lack of decorum!” He snatched his cup off the table and stomped away, still shouting as the doors banged shut behind him. “Can’t I sit somewhere for five! minutes! without getting bloody well cast out of a place!”

Tanner tsked and shook his head in the sudden silence.

“Must be a STEM major.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, just a quick joke to finish off the story. I've got a whole list of future ideas, but nothing in the works. Thanks for the kudos and comments! I really appreciate them.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be posting the other chapters over the next couple days as I get time. They're all complete. Feel free to take the idea and run, I'd love to see what others create from this.


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